


Snowslide

by Dredfulhapiness



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Movie star MJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dredfulhapiness/pseuds/Dredfulhapiness
Summary: “I need a date.”Gwen puts her phone facedown on the table. “You know,” She says, “Tinder exists.”MJ sighs, resets her expression. “Let me try again. I need you to be my date.”Gwen’s breath catches in her throat.(Or, Gwen is a proud girlfriend)
Relationships: Gwen Stacy/Mary Jane Watson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	Snowslide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soperiso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soperiso/gifts).



> Happy bday Han!!!! I hope you have a great day!

“I need your help.”

That’s how MJ greets her, no _hello,_ no _how are ya?_ She can be like that, sometimes, straight-to-the-point. Gwen looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow.

“What is it this time?” She asks, because this is far from the first time she’s been greeted like this.

(The last time was a phone call, _We need another model and you have experience, pretty please with a cherry on top?_

The time before it was a six AM wakeup call that came with bagels, _I have an exam in eight hours and would you be so kind to tell me what’s happening on this review sheet?)_

And, because she’s MJ, and because Gwen is Gwen, and because the sky is blue, and because gravity holds them down, and because Gwen couldn’t say no to MJ if she asked her to gouge her own eyes out Greek-tragedy-style, Gwen modeled, and put on a fresh pot of coffee to teach MJ how to calculate a parabola.

Which is how Gwen knows, before MJ even opens her mouth to elaborate, that she’s going to agree to whatever it is MJ’s about to say.

MJ must not know that, though, because she does the whole song and dance. She widens her eyes, and pouts, and fiddles nervously with her curls.

“I need a date.”

Gwen puts her phone facedown on the table. “You know,” She says, “Tinder exists.”

MJ sighs, resets her expression. “Let me try again. I need _you_ to be my date.”

Gwen’s breath catches in her throat.

_(She’s heard that before, of course. In dreams. In the little skip her heart does when her brain convinces her dozing body that she’s falling.)_

Here’s the thing: falling in love with MJ wasn’t dissimilar to an avalanche.

They had been best friends, coming out of the movie theater, and then MJ had turned to her with crooked 3D glasses and a goofy grin and Gwen may as well have shouted while walking through a mountain range.

It was suffocating, walking down West 42nd street and realizing that the way MJ says the word _tacky_ sounds like candy. Like something sweet. She’d turned a sticky word entrancing.

So Gwen stares up at her. “You want me to be your date?” She clarifies, sluggish.

“It’s just for one night. I have the movie premiere and my publicist thinks I need to look committed _.”_

“You’re _not_ committed.”

“No,” MJ says wistfully. “No, I’m not.”

Gwen swallows. “Why are you asking _me?”_ She asks, trying very hard not to get her hopes up in the few seconds of dead air before MJ answers.

“I can’t ask Harry since tabloids beat our breakup like a dead horse, and the media already knows Peter’s dating Johnny, Flash is… Flash so will you take one for the team? I’ll pay for you to get your nails done.”

“I don’t need you to pay for my nails,” She says, at a loss, only slightly stung by being fourth choice.

MJ crosses her arms over her chest. There are brown curls falling into her eyes, a wordless crease forming just above the bridge of her nose. Her lips are chapped. “So will you do it?”

And the answer, of course, is that the sky is blue, and gravity holds them down, and that Gwen’s self-preservation is buried under half a mile of snow.

—

The red carpet is warmer than Gwen had expected. There’s a lot of bodies in close quarters, a lot of lighting rigs beaming down on them. MJ keeps an arm on her elbow and leans down to murmur, _watch the wires._

She’s got a nervous kind of energy about her tonight. Gwen can feel her hands shake.

MJ is kind of a big deal.

Gwen already knew that, but she knew it from her own scope. She knew it from caffeinated nights in the library, MJ’s eyes crinkling at the corners when her brain landed on an angle for her paper. She knew it from MJ’s arms slicked with pumpkin guts. From Harry’s gasp when MJ popped around the corner and nailed him in the face with a plateful of whipped cream. From MJ’s delighted shrieking as she ran from him.

She’s a different kind of big deal here, though.

There’s a novelty to her: _MJ Watson, Blockbuster star and still in college._

Her charisma makes Gwen sick to her stomach. Her smile is dazzling. Her answers are eloquent.

She says, _You know, I really think that at the end of the day it’s a story about love. It’s not about romance, it’s about feeling at home just from being around people._

She gushes, _It was_ such _a fun project. Seriously, we had the best time on set. I’d work with anyone on that team again in a heartbeat._

She laughs, _It wasn’t so bad, y’know? I was taking classes but it turns out Richard is secretly a history buff. We would sit in his trailer in our off time and he’d go, “What war happened between 1803 and 1815?” And I’d go, “ahhh… I don’t know!” And he’d go, “You don’t know_ Napoleon?” _He got me through a lot of tests that way._

Gwen watches her, mostly from the side, mostly moving out of the way of camera crews toting equipment worth more than Gwen’s life. Since MJ pointed it out, she’s taken more care to look out for the gaffers tape and the thin lines of raised carpet that accompanied it.

MJ speaks, sneaks a glance at Gwen after answering questions, and in that small moment between camera flashes, her eyes are soft.

Gwen is asked a few questions, too. Mostly out of obligation. They’re all about MJ.

“How does it feel to be dating a movie star?” One reporter asked during a lull between incoming celebrities. He doesn’t hold the mic out to her, the cameras aren’t even facing toward her.

She glances over to where MJ is, a few feet away, nodding along to a question.

“It’s great—“ Gwen says, opting for a partial lie. “She works so hard, I’m really proud of her.”

“She seems to really love you,” He says. “I don’t see that very often.”

Gwen doesn’t get a chance to ask him what he meant. Someone more important and more famous has already caught his eye.

—

MJ wraps an arm around Gwen’s waist. Her hand sits just above her hip, fingers splayed across her stomach.

Gwen’s brain short circuits. She’s tucked against MJ’s side and she fits perfectly, like puzzle pieces or beads on a string.

_Like town homes, like joints, like caps on pens and wheels on chairs._

Their pictures are taken and they’re ushered away.

MJ leans down and whispers a joke into Gwen’s ear.

—

When MJ introduces Gwen to people she keeps a hand on the small of her back. Says, _Hey, this is my girlfriend Gwen… No, it’s fairly recent… We go to school together._

Someone asks Gwen, _How did you two meet?_ And she falters. Answers,

_She was dating one of my friends._

They laugh about it. There’s a calming pattern about it.

MJ’s hand is still on the small of her back.

Someone asks Gwen, _What are you going to school for?_

She tells them, _Biochemistry._ And MJ says, _She’s the smart one._

It’s lies, all of it. The jokes, the introduction, the hand on her back, but Gwen decides to enjoy it anyway. She is, after all, simply the victim of a natural disaster.

—

Gwen pushes open the door to the bathroom. “Hey, MJ, you in here? I think it’s about to start— You okay?”

MJ lingers by the sink, hands gripping the counter. She’s staring ferociously at her reflection. 

Gwen lets the door close behind her. Repeats, louder, “Hey, I think it’s about to start, we should head in.”

She startles, whirls her head from staring at the mirror and gapes at Gwen instead. She blinks once. Twice. Three times. Mascara pools at the corners of her eyes.

“Uh,” Gwen says.

“I can’t go in there,” MJ says, mostly to herself.

Gwen’s mouth flaps, at a loss.

This is a side of MJ Gwen hasn’t seen. Not when she fails tests, or gets broken up with, or is looked over for audition after audition.

MJ’s hands are trembling. She’s patting at the corner of her eyes with a piece of thin-twisted paper towel.

“MJ…” Gwen takes a few, cautious steps forward. “What’s wrong?”

“What if it sucks?”

“The movie?”

_“Me.”_

“That’s not possible.”

Gwen has never believed anything more.

MJ scoffs and turns back to her reflection. “You’re too kind, Gwendy.”

Gwen raises herself onto the bathroom counter, just out of MJ’s field of view. “It’s your first movie premiere,” She says gently. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“I can’t watch myself. Like, I think I’ll throw up if I have to—“

“O-okay— Then… Then you don’t.” Gwen reaches out and wraps her fingers around MJ’s wrist. “If you don’t want to, we can…” She licks her lips. “There’s an Applebees across the street. We’ll sneak out, have some artichoke dip.”

“I’m supposed to be here. Like, in there and watching it, so I don’t know if I can—“

“You read the script, right?” MJ nods. “Then you know what happens. We’ll sneak out, get a bite to eat, and be back before the credits roll.”

When MJ doesn’t reply, she nudges her hip with her foot. “C’mon, don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

MJ sniffs. “Are we gonna need to call an Uber?”

Gwen bites back a sigh of relief. “It’s within walking distance.”

—

There’s no wait for a table at Applebees. They slink in, looking terribly out of place in their gowns and heels, made up for the literal red carpet.

The host gives them a once-over, makes a face, and then walks them to a booth.

“I’m sorry,” MJ said just as Gwen digs her chip into the untouched perfection of artichoke dip. “You should be rubbing elbows with celebrities right now, not eating bar food.”

Gwen blinks and bites down with a crunch. “Are you serious?” She asks around a mouthful of chip, and MJ nods, bites her lip. “I don’t give a shit about that.”

“Still, I invited you out and now we’re…” MJ waves her hand toward the sea of LA natives swamped in grease and beers.

“I came here for you,” Gwen reminds. She sips at her Margherita. “The only reason I’d want to see the movie is because you’re in it. The rest of it? The fanfare? It’s only fun because I’m watching you succeed.”

Gwen feels naked, stripped down to the base things that make her Gwen, and that make MJ MJ.

Maybe MJ notices. She ducks her head, stares down at the menu for a long time, and then looks up.

“Did you know that you’re an angel?” She levels her gaze with Gwen. Her brown eyes are striking. “What would I ever do without you?”

Gwen bides her time by eating another chip. “You’re twenty-one years old already starring in a movie. You’re gonna be fine, MJ.”

—

They slink back into the theater just as the music of the credits is swelling to the climax. They take their seats and the lights come up, like clockwork. If anyone noticed their absence, they don’t mention it.

There’s more spectacle after: a few more conversations with the press, a party that ends with Gwen full of a handful of drinks, an uber ride where she holds her shoes in her lap while MJ laments about her first day on set with a loose tongue.

_No, seriously, it was so embarrassing. I just straight-up ate someone else’s sandwich— don’t laugh at me, Gwendolyne I’m traumatized!_

They fumble into the hotel, Gwen still clutching her heels in her fist.

“Well, this is my stop,” Gwen says when they’re standing in front of her door. “See you in the morning?”

“Bright and early for that airport rush.”

Gwen nods. “Right. Then goodnight.” She wrestles the keycard out of her bra and unlocks the door.

“Hey, before you go—“ MJ grabs Gwen’s arm.

It’s almost like a movie, or a book, the way MJ presses their lips together. She has to bend down, hand still holding Gwen by the elbow, the other on her shoulder. Gwen cups her cheek and leans in, and they’re a spectacle. They’re the avalanche, and the mountain, and the skier shouting with delight.

MJ pulls away, looks down at Gwen’s startled face, and says, “I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.”

And then she just leaves, heads to her own hotel room while Gwen gapes in the doorway.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come talk to me about these girls on Tumblr


End file.
